The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1887-01-17
BRAvED THE HOUNDS.
A Convict's Unsuccessful Attempt to
Escape from Prison.


the blinks." whispered Lookout No. !
to his companion. His trained hand
moved the bright reflector in the cupo-
la on the Eastern Penitentiary, and his
keen eyes scanned the massive walls
that arose like somber headstones
marking the tombs of thousand souls
whose overt acts had buried them from
the world, some for few years, others
for lifetime.
1t was a stormy night, and evil spir-
its seemed to have formed compact
to vent their fury on the little house of
frame and glass that afforded shelter to
the men whose duty it was to keep
guard over the condemned confined in
the gloom below.
Lookout No. laid aside his pipe and
arose. His eyes followed the moving rays
of the reflector, but nothing except bare
wall rewarded his scrutiny. "BlInks,
l guess" he grumbled, as lie resumed
his putting
Lookout No. | was restless. There
had been an escape not long before.
George Black, burglar, sentenced to five
years, had sealed the walls. Another
successful dash for liberty might result
dsastrously for those whose duty it was
to watch by night. Lookout No. l
knew this, and did not propose to take
chances. His companions pulled away
contentedly, but No. l kept moving the
stream of light over the walls in search
of an object which he failed to find.
Directly three bloodhounds, kept in the
yard at night as an extra precaution,
began barking
1.-The hounds rest uneasy tonight; l
guess the storms disturbed 'em,
mumblcd Lookout No. 2.
The barking increased in ferocity
and was followed by sharp yelps, as if
the brutes were in pain.
Strange" unused the smoker.
Cant be fghtin' can theyP"
Lookout No. 1 made no reply, but
there was an expression of anxiety in
his eyes as he glanced to where his
musket stood, charged to carry mes
senger of death should the occasion dc.
mand.
Suddenly the yelping of the hounds
was drowned by the clanking of
gong. The men in the cupola grasped
their guns, threw up the windows, and
stood ready for action. The alarm
meant an escape. Below all was con
fusion. Drowsy keepers sprang to their
feet and rushed from cell to cell. peer
ing through each wicket and calling
out "All right rs they found their
charges within. Finally voice away
down one of the long corridors sang
out, mo. $500 is missing"
That was Judson Walcotts number.
He was known as the terror of Luzerne
County. Others besides the keepers
heard the announcement, and rejoiced
that one of their number had made a
dash for liberty. They hoped that he
would be successful, and regretted that
it was not a general delivery. shat they
too might visit the outside world before
the time specified by Court Walcott'
tall, stout and muscular, had wrenched
the bars and bolts oil his ceil-dOor and
armed with one of the bars, had start
ed on his fight to freedom. But for
the hounds he might have succeeded.
He had sealed the wall near the center
parapet, and reached the yard. With
the aid of rope-ladder, which he had
made and secretly guarded for days in
his dreary cell, he expected to clear the
high wall that draws the line between
convict and fugitive. 1t was strange
sight that met the eyes of the keepers
who rushed into the yard with lanterns
and drawn revolvers. Against the
wall, with both hands clutchng the
throat of hound, stood the convict.
His eyes blazed like those of a maniac.
His striped garb had been torn into
shreds. and blood poured from deep
decorations on his limbs and body.
Near him lay two crippled hounds.
They had fallen beneath the crushing
blows of the iron bar. Walcott had
lost his only weapon of defense ID the
struggle. and when the third hound
prang at his throat his brawny hands
we're all he had with which to fight the
Iavage brute.